Ellen's Story
by L345
Summary: This is a take on Ellen O'Hara's personality before she married Gerald. She finds herself wildly in love with her cousin, Philippe, despite her familys disapproval. She is much like a toned down version of Scarlett. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Gone with the Wind. I am simply someone writing around the wonderful novel written by Margaret Mitchell.**

Sorry if this isn't any good. This is my first story on FanFiction. I've always wanted to write something like this but had never fully gotten enough of an idea to write it. I'll try for now. Oh and some things are slightly changed and added in. I tried to pull as much as I could from the novel. (Reviews welcome.)

Chapter 1

Wild at Heart

Ellen Robillard, the loveliest of all the Robillard daughters, sat on her bed and stared at the ticking clock on the wall. Her beautiful, slightly tilted, dark eyes chased the hands on the clock, willing them to go faster. She knew that in just minutes, Philippe, her simply dashing cousin that had swept her heart up and held it firmly in his perfect hand, would arrive at her door. Ellen was quite taken with his rebellious ways and brooding good looks, despite the disapproval of everyone around the two. He transformed her. Ellen, found herself letting walls down that her mother and Mammy had built in her mind since birth when she was in his presence. But of course, she never once strayed from being a proper lady.

It was a difficult situation to describe. She had tried to explain her love and near infatuation with Philippe to her friends as they confessed their lives to one another, but she could never make them understand. She was completely and irrevocably in love with him; however she could never be sure if he felt equally about her. She knew that she was no less than beautiful and charming in her own elegant way, but she never felt the need to flit her charm about to impress other men, only Philippe. He was her world, completely.

She sighed and stood to see out the window. There was still no sign of him. He had promised her twelve o'clock. She stole a glance at the clock and noticed that he was close to an hour late. She would not let herself be disappointed. No, he always showed up late. Of course he would be there. He loved her dearly. There was no way that he could feel any other way about her.

She knew how she felt whenever he walked in the same room as her. Her heart quickened it's pace and beat heavily. Her breath became irregular and labored. Her palms itched for his soft, warm touch. Ellen just knew in her heart of hearts that he felt the same. The passion they shared for one another was unmistakable.

"No one can be punctual all the time." Ellen thought to herself. She was never-endingly excusing his tardiness or sometimes absence. Nevertheless, she waited patiently with a burning heart, yearning for his affection. Sometimes she felt as if the love they shared was a grand game of cat and mouse, forever tugging at one another's heartstrings, pulling away then following with random bursts of affection. It only made Ellen love him all the more. Their love was just unique, and it made it even more beautiful and enjoyable.

She moved a chair to the window and stared out into the wonderful Savannah sunshine that made the land sparkle. A soft rain had fallen and everything lay covered in a fine layer of mist. Everything seemed to show such promise. She felt as if the universe was telling her that he would show up today. She watched as a bird flew overhead and met with another bird of it's likeness on a branch. Oh, how her heart wished to be that bird. To be free to do as she pleased, flying this way and that, never any occasions to attend, no worries at all. And if she were truly lucky, Philippe would be the other bird. Then they could start life together, side by side. No annoying siblings or parents to discourage her from him, just the two of them with the world at their wings. Freedom, it was the only thing that she wanted more than Philippe. For the simple fact that with freedom, came Philippe. Nothing in the world was sweeter than those moments of dreaming to Ellen.

Ellen's thoughts were gently interrupted by the rolling Southern accent of her Mammy. "Miss Ellen, iss supper time chile." Ellen stood from her strategically placed chair next to the large picture window in her room and shook her head silently. She mechanically did as she was told and began to walk to the staircase. Mammy grabbed her arm gently and looked straight into her eyes without hesitation. "Miss Ellen you know wass gonna happen in deh tonight, juss try to stay calm." Ellen calmly shook her head and started down the stairs, knowing that she would be far from calm. Dinner would be miserable. She just knew that her Pa was going to spend all of mealtime trying ineffectively to convince her of Philippe's worthlessness and his inability to care for anyone but himself. Ellen held her head proudly and prepared to defend the love of her life and brave the hatred of her father as she took the first step towards the step. "This wouldn't be the first time I've defended him." Ellen let her thoughts slip away as she caught the pleased face of her father at the table. A spark lit in her heart. "Here we go."

(Next chapter coming very soon. I wanted this to express Ellen's personality before Gerald. I always felt like she was a toned down version of Scarlett before her heart was ripped in two and that's how Scarlett became who she was. And of course the combination of Gerald's boisterous personality. Tell how you like it. Thanks for reading.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Anger, Sorrow, and Baked Chicken

Ellen caught the gaze of her father and held it just long enough to figure out how he was taking the situation, although she was sure that she already had a good idea. His eyes resembled a fire dancing about wildly. All of the hate for Philippe was soon to tumble out of his mouth, which was contorted in such a manner that made Ellen want to lose her cool head and calm appearance. She could tell that he was only waiting for everyone to settle into their high-backed chairs at the long dining table so he could verbally beat Philippe, along with Ellen's dreams, to nothing. But Ellen knew that she wouldn't allow it, she couldn't. The family had experienced the battle over Philippe between Ellen and her father on more than one occasion, but the nights that Philippe failed to arrive against his word, were the nights where the insults were heavier and the defense was louder. Ellen never raised her voice to her father, knowing the consequences that would follow. That didn't mean that Pierre Robillard didn't raise his voice to her though.

As soon as everyone was in their chairs with food on their plates, it began.

"Ellen, darling, where is Philippe. I was under the impression that he would be joining us tonight."

Ellen felt the anger rise in her throat and set on her tongue like a paperweight. She placed her fork down politely and wiped her mouth lightly with her cloth napkin that sat in her lap. If she appeared calm, it would only make him angrier. "Well father, I believe something came up and he could not make it." She almost wanted him to come back with something that stirred conflict. She wanted to argue with him about it, she knew that Philippe loved her. He simply didn't express it as other men did.

"Something came up that was more important than my beautiful Ellen?"

Ellen tensed; she knew that wasn't meant as a compliment. She had conveniently taken another bite of baked chicken and waited to finish chewing. However, her sister Eulalie, beat her to the opening in the conversation.

"He probably decided to sneak off with someone else for the night, or he could have gone to…" Ellen cut her off quickly. "I would say that he got caught up reading to Mrs. Hall. She does love when he comes over." She cut her eyes directly at her mean-spirited sister and let her know exactly how she felt about her commentary.

Ellen knew that her father was thinking of something to combat her defense of Philippe's whereabouts, but her other sister, Pauline, found the words before he did. "Oh Ellen, when will you ever learn. He's older than you and you don't understand. He is not the person you dream of." Ellen's eyes narrowed and she felt her father's wondering gaze upon her, awaiting her response. Ellen couldn't believe that her sister's were allowed to share their input on the matter. The girls had absolutely no say in anything else.

"You don't know him, none of you do. He simply carries a reputation." Ellen was pleased with herself. She was sure she had closed the conversation, but she was wrong. Her father's eyes began to dance again. "I've found his reputation to be very true. That is why I have decided that you are not allowed to see him again. He cannot give you the future of security and wealth that you deserve." Ellen dropped her fork accidently. She was in shock. She had expected a lot of different things to slide cooly out of her father's mouth, but this was a blow she had not seen coming. Never in a million years had she expected him to keep her from seeing Philippe.

"But, but I love him." Hot, stinging tears squeezed in between her eyes and eyelids. She knew she couldn't let them fall, her father would find satisfaction in her sorrow. "That's why he's doing this," Ellen thought, "to hurt me. He likes it."

Her father didn't soften his gaze or look as if his daughter's hurt meant anything to him, he simply continued speaking in his firm tone. "Love means nothing. It does not give you a roof over your head, or food to nourish your body."

"He would provide for me," Ellen replied, refusing to let her father dismiss her feelings so easily. "The love we have for another would create a beautiful home. He would take care of me."

"He doesn't act like he loves you. The boy is wild and always will be. He will never settle down and care for any woman. He couldn't provide for you and give you a good life." Ellen knew that she couldn't come back with the typical "yes he would response", so she dropped it and decided to ask a question. "Why now?" He studied the food that sat idley on his fork and then looked at his daughter. "Ellen, this is the last time he is going to break his word to you. A gentleman is nothing without his word and after this evening, his word means nothing. You will tell him tomorrow that you cannot see him again. The driver will take you, and Mammy will go with you. There will be absolutely no more discussion on the matter. You will not see him. Now eat."

Ellen swallowed the anger and sorrow along with every bite of carrot and chicken. She knew she couldn't fight his word, for her word meant nothing compared to his. She silently ate her dinner, never lifting her eyes off of her plate. The scalding tears still behind her lids almost seemed to be jumping around, making it difficult to see. She ignored them and willed them not to fall. All of her crying would be done in her room, when her father couldn't see.

(I hope you liked this chapter. Sorry it took a little while, it's been a little bit difficult capturing the shrewd, calculated personality that Mr. Robillard has towards Ellen. Please tell me your honest opinions. They are greatly appreciated. The third chapter will be coming soon.)

And thank you to Tipperose for the help with the structure.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Memories and Teardrops in the Moonlight

After braving through dinner and prayer without shedding a single tear, Ellen made her way to her room, her safe haven. She bounded up the stairs as quickly as she could in her billowing dress and entered her room at the top of the stairs. By some miracle, she had not broken down in her father's presence, but Ellen was more than ready to at this point. She leaned against the door until she heard the tiny click and then slid down to the floor. In the privacy of her enclosed room, she was free to sob as long and as hard as she wanted to. Hot tears finally spilled from her eyes. She recklessly began pulling everything that held her hair so elegantly at the nape of her neck in the French hairstyle Mammy had created for Philippe's arrival that morning and threw it on the floor by her dressing table. She interwove her fingers in her tangled hair and let her whole body melt into the floorboards.

Her sobs overtook her being and shook her to the core. She was sobbing so hard, that after only a few minutes, she couldn't breathe. Her stays began cutting into her ribs and made her unable to get enough air to her lungs. It was all coming in little ragged gasps now; it was more than she could bear. The tears stopped and she managed to pull herself up off the floor. She wanted desperately to call for Mammy, but she couldn't make out the words. Her throat began to burn like wildfire. She reached behind her to feel for the lacing on her dress, but her fingers found nothing. If she couldn't get the dress off, she wouldn't be able to get her stays off. The air that was catching in her esophagus felt like knives sliding up and down. She clenched the neck of her dress and was about to rip the dress off when Mammy walked in.

Ellen pointed erratically at her stays and Mammy caught on quicker than Ellen thought she would. She spun Ellen around and began unlacing as fast as she could. "It's alright chile. I'm gon' get this off of yeh." Ellen felt her head begin to swim. She grabbed the bedpost and laid her forehead against it. She just knew she was dying.

As soon as Mammy had pried the corset from her body, she sunk to the ground and let the air fill her lungs. Relief flooded her being. The tears began to stream down her face once more. Mammy slipped the nightgown over her head as she sat in a heap on the floor. "Go on Miss Ellen, don' lay on dat ole' hard floor."

Ellen felt her body move to the bed, but she didn't know how. "Oh Mammy, it's terrible. I love him, I do." Mammy quieted her and stroked her hair that still lay tangled. "Iss gon be ok. I know it is." Ellen tossed about and anger welled up inside of her. She doubled over and held her stomach as if the anger was clenching her insides. "I can't do it. I can't." The sobs still shook her tiny frame, but at least she could breathe now.

"Mammy, I need him. There is no way that I can tell him I can't see him anymore. I hate Father."

"Oh no chile, you mustn't think like that." Ellen wasn't listening to Mammy's reprimanding. She was simply thinking of Philippe's sandy-colored hair and the way it felt as it slid between her fingers, or the way his blue eyes looked into her green ones as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Her body began to tremble as she thought of his hot breath upon her cheek. She loved when he touched her hand or grazed her cheek with his soft lips. It set something on fire in her heart; something that she knew was love.

"I can't just forget him. I can't cut him out of my life. I love him. "

Another round of tears began to stream down her pallid face. She buried her head in her pillow and wished she could be anywhere but her father's home. "If mother were still alive she would defend me, she wouldn't let Eulalie and Pauline talk about the person I love like that. If only she were here."

After a few more hours, her head began to torment her after the crying spell and she lay in the darkness staring at the sliver of a moon outside her window. She stopped thinking, stopped feeling, and stopped remembering. Ellen simply lay in a tiny ball in the center of her large bed with the elegant, French carving in the headboard and footboard, under covers of the finest material her father could buy, with her head buried in pillows of eiderdown and lay numb lulling herself to sleep with dreams of being anywhere else but Savannah.


End file.
